Chapter Seventeen
The Golden Guard, in all his regalia, marched through the halls of the Emperor's castle with perfect rhythm. To any of the scouts passing him in the halls, many of whom whispered about his sudden return to the castle, he seemed the picture of confidence.
Inside was a different story entirely.
Under his hood and mask, Hunter was sweating with nerves at the summons from his uncle. He'd barely gotten any sleep the night before as questions whirled through his mind, even ignoring Willow's scroll messages. Why the sudden meeting? He had delivered all of his reports from the Bonesborough precinct, and this was outside the schedule. Not to mention in person. What could it be about? Did Belos find out about him and Willow?
Did he know about Willow?!
The thought made the dread weighing him down multiply a hundredfold. He knew better than anyone Belos's stance on wild magic. And this was not the first time he'd considered what would happen if he found that Willow could use it intuitively. The mental image of Willow screaming as her body turned to stone made him shiver as if he were standing stark-naked on the pinnacle of the Knee.
All too soon, he arrived at the double doors that led to the throne room. The Abomi-tons at the door nodded and let him pass, his mechanized staff as much an identifier as his mask. He strode into the throne room and to the foot of the steps, kneeling with his staff — a gift from Belos — at his side.
"You summoned me, Emperor Belos. How may I be of service?"
Belos drummed his fingers with a metallic clatter, drawing out the silence between them with the persistent pulse of the Titan's bile sac thrumming above him. Hunter's belly twisted even further, even as he struggled to keep from trembling. That was a tell he could not afford to let slip.
"How goes your little mission, Hunter?" he asked, almost casually. "You seem to be taking your sweet time to identify a single wild witch."
"The target is … wary of revealing too much of herself," he replied.
"Unsurprising … for an ally of the Owl Lady," Belos commented. Hunter invisibly tensed at the revelation. Belos knew?! "Of course, the fact that none of the other witchlings that have fallen under her influence are learning wild magic still suggests a different source of corruption," Belos mused. He drummed his fingers thrice more. "It occurs to me that you have been at this for three weeks, nearly as long as Lilith was after the Owl Lady."
"Gaining the confidence of the target despite the human's presence has been … slow-going," Hunter replied levelly.
"Not unlike Lilith's excuses for her assignment," Belos said airily. It occurred to Hunter then that he recalled Lilith's final audience with the Emperor, when the Golden Guard himself stood behind Belos's right shoulder. That did nothing to bolster his confidence. "But I am not without fairness, Hunter," he added more gently. "I will give you seven days to deliver the identity of this child's wild teacher." The arm of his chair cracked under the force of his grip as his voice became cold as ice. "Or we will find it with more … traditional methods."
'Torture,' Hunter thought. 'No, I can't let that happen.'
"I understand," he said aloud as he rose from his knee. "Worry not, Uncle," he said with something of his usual bravado, "it will be done."
Belos lifted his fingers in dismissal and Hunter turned to leave. "Oh, Hunter," he called, "one more thing." Hunter stopped to listen, his gut sinking to depths he'd never felt. "Do remember your secondary objective." The beat of the Titan's bile sac sped up as if in agitation. "The girl's knowledge, no matter how faint, could make her dangerous to the Titan's will. She must be bound to a coven before your mission ends."
Hunter's eye was twitching wildly behind his mask. "Of course, Uncle," he said firmly, then resumed his departure.
As Hunter made his way into the hall beyond, the doors thudding shut behind him, he turned a corner before collapsing against the wall to dry heave with terror for Willow. Belos knew about her identity, her connection to Luz and the Owl Lady! And he had a week to find her nonexistent teacher and convince or force her into a coven?!
Hunter had the strong temptation to lay down and curl up in a fetal position, but grit his teeth and forced it down. Panicking would do no good! He had to think, to act!
As he forced his anxiety down and lifted himself from the wall, Hunter cringed at the sound of very familiar poisonously-sweet laughter behind him. He glanced backward to find Kikimora watching him with obvious glee, riding upon one of her ever-present Abomi-tons. "Oh, dear. It would seem the Golden Guard is feeling a little green. Wouldn't want your lady friend to see you like this, hmm?"
"Excuse me?" Hunter asked, tone strained with sudden suppressed emotion.
"Well, I would be conflicted, too, if I was fooling around with my target. Don't tell me it's some nefarious plan to pry away her secrets." She giggled maliciously. "And when the Emperor finally finds out about your failure, he'll toss you aside! And then your little wild floozy will be ripe for the stoning-"
It happened too fast to see.
Kikimora screeched as she suddenly fell from her perch, the creation tearing apart at the figurative seams. She winced in preparation to meet the ground, but was knocked backward and pinned by her throat to the opposing wall. She choked in the Golden Guard's grip, the gem-like tip of his staff glowing menacingly in her face.
"Trying to poach my mission again, Kiki?" he snarled. He was not screaming, his voice was low and cold … much like the Emperor's. "No. I have the Emperor's approval for this. So here's what's gonna happen. For once in your life, you're going to shut up and mind your own Titan-damned business!" He drew closer, less than a hand's breadth from her face. "And if I find out that you so much as arranged to have a finger laid upon my target, I'll snap your fingers — all of them! — one by one and toss you into the thorn moat myself!"
Only then did he release her, letting her slide to the ground and cough at her aching throat. "As you were, Kikimora," the Golden Guard said, almost pleasantly. As he walked away, Hunter ignored the itch between his shoulder blades that meant Kikimora was shooting a quite possibly literally murderous look at him.
No matter. What mattered was figuring out how he could complete his mission … without hurting the girl who held his heart in her hands.
Lady Feronia sighed with something akin to boredom as she watched two of her colleagues practice their combat magic on a wide plateau formed by the worn stump of one of the Titan's broken ribs. The landmark was covered in fine gravel and littered with spidery cracks as wide as a person's hand, but it was as stable as could be.
Which made it perfect for the intensive magics of two head witches.
From a cloud of yellow-orange smoke soared a thin man of average height, though he looked much taller due to the top hat he wore over long, snow-white hair. His lower face was obscured by a cloth mask worn in alchemical labs, but left his red eyes with yellow sclera bare and could not hope to cover his exceedingly long, pointed nose that curved down almost to his chin. Otherwise he was clad in a black robe with a gold sash and trimmings, tied with a bandolier of potion vials, and leather shoes.
Cicero Nikolai, the head of the Potions Coven, who removed a vial of light blue fluid — a freezing potion — and tossed it to shatter and form massive spikes of ice. Spikes that shattered to powder under the assault from his opponent.
The other was a much shorter and stockier man with a bald head complimented by a long bushy grey beard and moustache. His green eyes were set in something of a permanent glower, not helped by the beard. He was dressed in sturdy and practical clothing of dark brown leather, his scarred arms bare.
Heph Starret, the head of the Construction Coven.
When Cicero traced a wide, yellow spell circle that unleashed a roaring gout of flames, Heph traced his own circle that erected a stone wall exquisitely detailed to look like brick and topped with crenelation like that found atop a castle's wall. Cicero armed himself with more potions and waited, not long, for a rumble and cloud of dust to emerge to his right that heralded Heph emerging from a subterranean tunnel. He toted a pair of massive metal spears that he had no doubt crafted on-the-fly and spun them almost lazily in his grip.
Cicero nodded and unsheathed a rapier sword with a hollow blade, much like a giant syringe. A dagger laced with a paralyzing brew went to his other hand and his eyes crinkled as he smiled beneath his mask. "Shall we, then?" he asked in a reedy voice.
"Sure," Heph said in his rumbling basso, paired with a shrug.
The coven heads charged, but were halted by woody tendrils bursting from the ground and tying around their waists to jerk them off their feet while a cluster of ironmaiden trees arose to keep them separated.
"Honestly, it seems that men hardly mature," Feronia groused. "They only get bigger."
"Must you always interrupt, Feronia?" Cicero asked in a deadpan way. "At this rate, we will never decide who is more formidable." With a flick of his wrist, he produced a vial of poisonous green fluid that he uncorked and poured over the vines supporting him, the greenery rotting away to free him.
"Neither," Feronia said simply. "You are both equally formidable in your own ways."
"Leave it to a lady to speak so simply over what we take so seriously," Heph chuckled, forming a pair of hedge trimmers to snap at his restraints and free himself.
Feronia rolled her eyes at her fellow seniors amongst the heads of the Main Nine covens. Heph was just younger than her in age and years serving a coven, while Cicero was several years younger but still of respectable age. The one thing all of them had in common was that they, in addition to the retired Scooter Crane, had been alive during the Savage Ages and its bloody end.
They remembered the carnage Belos had wrought to bring the chaos to an end.
"It's a shame Whispers was taken," Cicero said. "They had real talent."
"And a good heart," Heph added.
"They are young and headstrong," Feronia said, her lips turned down in a tight frown. All of the coven heads were aware of the fate of Raine Whispers. They had been shown to the rest of them as a subtle warning to follow Belos's plans and the consequences of rebellion against them. "And if we do not watch our step, any of our own coven members could be taken as well."
"So …?" Cicero asked. "What shall we do about it?"
Willow bit her lip as she watered her plants for the day. She'd spent most of the morning lightly cleaning the house and setting up snacks and drinks for the day. She usually wasn't like that, but she had so much nervous energy it seemed like a productive way to burn it off. And now she was watering her plants to stay busy.
Hunter was due to arrive early this morning, but he hadn't specified a time before he'd … gone silent. They'd messaged for several minutes during his flight home, but he'd stopped after and had ignored her follow-up messages. If she had less faith in his word, Willow would worry that he wouldn't arrive at all. But she had faith in him.
Not that it helped with the nervousness.
Willow winced as she felt her dads' eyes on her back. She could imagine their expressions; Papa was looking amusedly concerned and Dad some mix of worried and disgruntled. She straightened with as much dignity as possible and removed her gardening gloves before smoothing out her dress, a red, sleeveless shift dress with leaf designs embroidered from the right collar to the left hem.
She was just starting to wonder if she should take another round through her morning workout before the doorbell shrilled. She gasped and raced past her dads to stumble to a stop at the door, straighten her hair and smooth her dress again, take a breath, fix a flirty smile on her lips, and open it to find Hunter. She leaned against the door frame intent on a witty remark, but her smile melted at the state of her … um, romantic acquaintance?
Hunter looked … haunted. His eyes looked hollow and his skin was paler than usual, the circles under them darker than she'd ever seen. He wasn't even looking at her, just down a little with his gaze unfocused. His clothes, a dark button-up and slacks with a belt, boots, and his ever-present gloves, were a little rumpled.
"Hunter?" she asked in mounting concern.
He shook himself with a sudden gasp and blinked several times before smiling tiredly at her. "Hey, Willoooooooowwwww …" His eyes had widened as he finally registered her and he looked her up and down. He trailed off into a faint drone of his voice, as if half-stuck in a trance.
Acting without conscious thought, Willow reached up and tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. That was enough to break him out of it and he flushed with embarrassment. "Willow! Oh, uh, sorry, that was loud …! Um, you, uh-" He stammered a little before clasping his gloved hands and apparently biting his tongue. "You l-look really nice," he finally got out.
Willow's cheeks flushed pink at the compliment, but her faint frown stayed. "You look … exhausted, Hunter."
Even as tired as he looked, he had the energy to raise an eyebrow in mock offense. "Wow," he said dryly. "That's exactly what a guy likes to hear when he compliments his … you know, whatever we are."
Willow looked chagrined for a moment before her eyes became resolute. "Hunter, if you don't feel like staying … I won't be hurt if you go home and get some rest."
"No!" Hunter shouted, tense as a violin string. He coughed as his cheeks darkened. "No, I, um …" He growled at himself and took her hands in his. "There is nowhere I'd rather be right now than with you."
Willow felt herself smile like a fool and sort of wriggle in place. "I know what you mean." She drew him a bit closer. "Would you like to come in?"
Hunter nodded, and their day began.
After a breakfast of griffin eggs and schvine bacon while Willow's dads left to run errands, she had offered to show off her plants. Hunter, the badly-hidden nerd that he was, took her up on that immediately. They stayed in her room, the door respectfully open, for over two hours as she described each of her plants and revealed their quirks and the names she had given them.
When she had no more to show, Willow placed her last plant down and suddenly felt Hunter pressed into her back, his chin on her shoulder and watching closely as she replaced a wriggling mass of tentacles that was her Kraken shrub on her window sill. Her heart rate sped up and she felt a familiar warmth rise up inside, made only worse when Hunter wrapped his arms around her waist with obvious deliberation.
"I don't know how you can make gardening so attractive," Hunter whispered in her ear.
"I'm … just th-that good," she managed to stammer out.
"That good-looking," he quipped back, pressing closer to kiss the side of her neck. "Not to mention smart," kiss, "and sweet," kiss, "and just so amazing." He nuzzled the side of her head with a sound suspiciously like a purr.
Willow giggled and reached up to card her fingers through his hair, the other hand resting on his own joined over her front. "How about we move to the living room before my dad has a conniption fit from wherever they are? We can see what's on the crystal ball."
That led to the pair cuddling on the couch and watching reruns of Bleeding Hearts, a show bad enough that Willow couldn't help but laugh and had Hunter all but scratching his head in bewilderment. "What even is this?" Hunter asked at one point. "Are there seriously that bad of writers on the Boiling Isles? Even Luz wouldn't actually like this stuff!" Naturally, Willow couldn't help but laugh at her … companion's reactions.
After about an hour, the broadcast was interrupted by an announcement from the Emperor's Coven, which had the witchlings tensing in each others' arms. The piece showed Kikimora and a line of coven scouts decrying the evils of wild magic and encouraging both recruitment into a coven as soon as possible and information on any and all wild witches to be passed along to the authorities.
"Oh shut up, you little monster," Hunter spat, clicking the remote to cut off the feed. He tossed it aside and held Willow even closer, his entire body tense in a way that made Willow uneasy.
"Hunter?" she asked almost timidly. His stormy expression softened considerably and he looked at her curiously.
Willow opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but hesitated. "What … are we, exactly?"
The question seemed to surprise him, and then he looked away with pink staining his cheeks and making his scar seem darker. "I've been wondering that myself," he admitted. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, separating from her to turn and face her somewhat squarely. "What … do you want us to be?"
Willow's heart sang at his concern for her wants and feelings, just as it cracked at the insecurity hidden in his question. She reached up and cupped his face in her palm, the other hand taking his and weaving their fingers. "I would be happy to call you my boyfriend, Hunter Strong."
Hunter blinked at those words and seemed ... conflicted before a warm smile spread across his lips. "I would be honored to call you my girlfriend, Willow Park," he replied, leaning his forehead against hers.
Willow sighed and revelled in the contact, intimate but not overly so. She really did want to go slow, or at least no faster than they had so far. She respected and cared about Hunter too much to hurt him because he wasn't ready for something, and she respected herself the same way. But they had done more than this: she leaned up and kissed him lightly on the lips, pulling away just a bit with a teasing gleam in her eyes.
Hunter's hooded gaze was warm, but also full of pain. His smile cracked and crumbled into a grimace and he took her wrist in his gentle grip and turned his head to kiss her palm. "Willow, there's something else I need us to talk about," he whispered, his voice raw.
The warmth of affection was doused by a chill of fear. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"I-" He winced and started trembling. "I had a talk with my uncle this morning," he whispered. Willow's eyes widened at the mention of his mysterious uncle and she moved her hand to the back of his head to soothingly stroke his neck. "He knows about you, Willow. Not about us, I don't think, but about you. And he doesn't seem happy about it. And that … scares me."
Willow shuddered at the unmarred fear in Hunter's words and stroked his cheek with her thumb. How did this uncle of his treat her boyfriend — part of her squealed with joy at that word but she pressed it down for now — to have him react this way.
"But something else scares me more," Hunter said. He took her hand from his cheek and kissed her fingers before settling them between them. "You remember the Scarbury." It was a statement, not a question. He respected her too much to condescend to her. "And I remember how that encounter ended." Hunter winced but nodded faintly as if to himself. "Willow … how long have you practiced wild magic?"
Chapter 17! What'd you think?
*Cicero Nikolai is named after a Roman statesman and philosopher whose name I really like, and his last name is the Russian take on "Nicholas," a dual reference to Dmitri Mendeleev who created the periodic table and Nicholas Flamel a famed alchemist of mythic proportions.
*Heph Starrett was named for Hephestus the Greek god of craftsmen and fire, and the Starrett Corporation who built the Empire State Building.
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